


Bruised

by YourBonesShallCrackBeneathMyHeel



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Dominic Purcell - Freeform, F/M, Non-Explicit Sex, Other, Pyromania, Smut, pyrophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 18:46:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23981791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YourBonesShallCrackBeneathMyHeel/pseuds/YourBonesShallCrackBeneathMyHeel
Summary: Mick helps reader out with an accidental injury
Relationships: Mick Rory/Reader
Kudos: 12





	Bruised

"Look! Ray, I'm good! K?" you said snappishly. "Nothing busted, just a bruised pride." 

"Are you sure? Gideon can scan you in seconds. You did the brunt of the physical...work, fa...fighting those-"

"Harpies… let's just call them Harpies. Remember, the power of names?" Ray nods, hands up, stepping back slightly in surrender. Remembering demons and dangerous magical creatures formed from black magic, all the things that had him jumpy in the first place.

"...Besides, I hate people who kick puppies…" Mick (the only other person still in the room after our debriefing) gave you a quizzical look, Ray looked confused. 

"That's what you look like when you mess up. Or think it's your fault someone got hurt" You roll your eyes at Ray's furrowed brow. "So you wouldn't follow me like a whipped biscuit eater, If I happened to take more of the " _ physical bluntness _ " 'cause you stupidly summon something with your blabbering mouth…" You snorted humorlessly at the mental picture of Ray as a beagle puppy. "Pardon my resting Bitch-face, I should have been able to handle those flying monkeys a lot easier. I'm pissed 'cause I was off my game!" Which was almost the truth, you'd been distracted.

While Sarah had  _ finally _ stopped worrying about you fighting how you needed to, which was on your own. The rest of the group had trusted your abilities pretty easily. Understanding you could hurt them if you became overwhelmed. Thereby hindering instead of helping you, when you needed to tap into the fullness of my powers. Except for Mick, You had been distracted by him.

He was unpredictable, it looked a lot more guresume than it was… At least it wasn't for you. Your astral form was fine while your physical projections were getting clobbered. Sure you felt everything, each bite, slash, and when three of them ripped a leg off? Oh yeah! You felt that too! You're use 'ta it, it's simply how it works. Bait the baddies, let them get a good taste for the blood in the water, them BAM! You necularlize their asses! If you can't beat it- them, one on one, or five on one, your blood gets them in the end. Their life force rebuilds your body and your astral self rejoins it. It's very effective blood magic, Constantine was, (by his own admission) jealous of it. It was strictly defensive, no blackening of your soul. Just the same, It certainly isn't for the faint of heart! You not only have to feel everything twice for every physical form you divide yourself into. If you don't know what you're doing you also risk losing your soul everytime you separate physical and astral forms. If the team knew, you're sure they'd all be a bigger bunch of mother hens. 

Mick watched for as long as he could. He didn't care if they were Hocus pocus projections of you,  _ they  _ were _ still you! _ And  _ you _ were being eaten alive.

Mick's heat gun caused an explosion while you were just about done regenerating. Embarrassingly a chunk of wood hit you right in the crotch! Presto bruised twat! You weren't going to use Giddon to check that out in front of everyone. Besides you needed Mick and the heat gun to fix yourself up anyway, should the need arise. Cost is cost, everything balanced, Giddon couldn't settle the balance. If you weren't mutated or something, you'd just live with a sore twat. You really didn't want to think about  _ those _ what ifs. Just get checked out and go on with life.

"Come on hot head, cold brew s'on me." You called over your shoulder. Mick followed without comment even though he knew you didn't typically drink. You led the way to your room in silence. Once you were both inside, the door barely closed, Mick asked…

"What the fuck was that?" Your right eyebrow raised as you look at the pyromaniac leaning against the wall, arms folded across his chest. "Couldn't help think'in you were lying to Haircut back in the lab Kitten." Good choice of words, Mick didn't know if you were lying. He knows when you're telling the truth, he only suspects if you were holding something back. The fact that he was here, in your room, pretty much confirmed this particular scespation. 

"Yeppers…" You toss him a beer, which he catches with one hand, barely uncrossing an arm, his eyes never leaving yours. "...girls gotta have some secrets." You hop up to sit on the counter/work space, then rest the second cold glass bottle between your legs as you open it.

"Truth is, I am a little pissed off. Just not at myself…" You take a small sip and frown at the taste. So you fain taking a larger drink before returning it to between your thighs. Mick still hasn't said anything else.

"You don't trust me." You state frimley. Mick sighs heavily as he finishes his beer and resettles against the wall. "I don't care that it got me hurt, but if that happens to someone besides you or me, you'll regret it. I'll make sure of it." His face darkened when you said you were hurt, or rather he had gotten you hurt. He looks down at his now empty bottle, for the first time breaking eye contact as he inspects it.

"So when you said you weren't hurt-" you cut off the frowning flamehead.

"Nothing busted, just a bruised pride!" You quote your own words back to him. When his eyes are back on you. You motion to your center where the bottle is still resting with a slight smirk. You pull out another beer motioning him to toss you his empty for a full one. He does a damn good job at keeping his face straight, through his eyes sparkle with laughter.

"Go on! Laugh flame boy. It  _ is _ kinda funny." You giggle aloud at the absurdity of it all. Mick chuckles from deep in his chest. It's a nice sound. Soon he's winded from laughing, eyes wet, and sides aching slightly. 

"What… A-ha-em how did...?" 

"Chunk of wood from the explosion." Suddenly Mick is completely sober and straight faced. "I said  _ bruised! _ Not shish- kabob-ed!" That makes him relax, slightly. "But, I do need to get a look at it, a mirror might do the trick, but it would be easier if you help me." Mick's spine stiffens once again. 

"You mean that? Want me to play doctor to your sore cunt?" You could tell he instinctively thought this was some sort of trap. You scare him, or rather what you could do, what you could withstand. His own strength, high tolerance for pain made him unsympathetic for anyone or anything when he was your age. "Know why I call you kitten, Kitten? 'Cause they'll go from helpless to hellspon in one second flat!"

"Yeah well, a kitten isn't asking for your help. Hell- don't think of it as a woman asking for you to play doctor. Think of it as your team member just needs make sure they needn't go through the humiliation of Dr. Politically Correct Ray Palmer, or Captain Tweety meee-oow-aah Bird playing OBGYN, K?" With a deep inhale then exhale Mick nods. "Bed okay?" 

"You're the patient, whatever works for you kitten." Half of your suit is down around your ankles in one smooth motion. Mick sees your backside in all its naked glory, he likes what he sees. You're not totally naked head to toe when you lay down, just enough to take a cursory peek at the damage. Your left inner thigh is greyish purple with little red and blue dots from burst blood vessels. That color scheme continues to your wounded pride, only darker, with deeper hue and diversity of colors. Yellow bruising that looks weeks old covers the right side of your torso and leg below the knee.

" 'Thought you could heal ur'self." 

"Nope. It's the life force of whatever hurts me. Impact from a blunt chunk of wood caused by an explosion, caused by your heat gun is two times removed from a being's willful act to hurt me."

"I didn't-"

"Intend to hurt me, I know. So does the balance. So no weird mutation or anything?" Mick shrugs and nods.

"Far as I can tell." Opening yourself up more, you nod for him to take a closer look.

"Looks good, normal. Ya gotta pretty pussy Kitten, even banged up.

"Alright bruised cunt it is, just gotta tell cap I'll be sitting out the next job or two."

"Giddon can't fix that?"

"Nope. It would throw off the balance. Best intentions aside, blood magic has very clear rules. And someone or something healing me could end up turning me dark, blackening my soul. For instance, in the case of Giddon and the waverider I could end up becoming a superbeing with abilities to travel through time at will and hell knows what else."

"So there's nothing… you know- nothing that could help?"

"Balance might recognize your gun, I might be able to use the energy from it to heal me."

"How would that work exactly?"

"I touch it while it's powered on…?"

"Sounds more like a question then answer Doll."

"I'm not asking you to pull the trigger, just take the safety off."

"There's no safety, just my impeccable self-control."

"Riiiight- so I’m guessing it can’t be fired underwater?" He gives you an incredulous look. “I guess you’re just going to have to trust me.”

We go to a room that won't be damaged for any mishaps with his gun. New clothes for Mick and yourself are in a firestartent container. Right now you're wearing something that would melt to your skin If it catches on fire. The balance would heal Mick, if he gets hurt in any way because he's trying to help you. His clothes are similar to your own, sweats and t-shirt.

As soon as the gun is turned on you can feel it, you have no fear when he ignites the flame in the small space. You reach out without a second thought, Mick's hand shoots out to pull yours away, and now both of your hand's are engulfed in a hot, but painless flame. You can feel him, on the edge of your concession, his emotions as he adds more, and more fire, until the two of you are completely surrounded. The warmth licks and tickles you inside and out. By now you are both naked, you have never seen such a look of innocent awe and wonder grace Mick's face.

For Mick the passion is too much to barre within doing something. Unable to physically hold the flame he pulls you flash to his body, unable to return the flame's heated kisses, he kisses you. Then pulls away quickly realizing what he has done, his countenance is appalogect but you don't give him a chance to vocalize it.

You kiss him back hard, hard like his body, passionately, like his shining eyes. The flame has begun to retreat and you advance your physical need to connect with him.

TBC


End file.
